


Betrayal

by persistent_pedantry



Series: The Escapades of Minerva and R [21]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persistent_pedantry/pseuds/persistent_pedantry
Summary: Man, don't you hate it when your boss waves a gun in your face?
Series: The Escapades of Minerva and R [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483421





	Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this is the only writing I have including Fawkes, better known as The Auctioneer or Ren and Min's boss. Anyway, we're coming up to the end of 2019, so that's fun. Probably less so since I haven't written anything new since then. Oh! This is also the first story I've done with the two that's been in first person, so that's cool.

The Unova auction was loud as always, filled with the shouts of bids, the cries of anguished Pokémon; it always put me on edge when I went there.

I stayed close to René, idly looking from side to side, seeing the empire we helped to build. It wasn’t a pretty sight, sure, but it was one hell of a lucrative one. A flicker of a smile rose, only to fade again as he took a different turn than usual.

“Hey, Renny. Where we going?” I asked, looking up to him.

“Fawkes has asked for us. It takes first priority,” he answered flatly, his telepathy still fuzzy and distant compared to mine, but it let us talk without confiding in eavesdroppers.

I frowned in worry, or maybe confusion. Fawkes was the boss of the whole trafficking ring around Unova. We hadn’t done anything wrong, as far as I knew, so what would he want us for? It made my stomach turn.

René put a hand on my shoulder, causing me to jolt slightly. Despite the chill of the sewers, his hand was warm and reassuring. “It won’t be anything bad. If it was, I don’t think he’d waste any time with having us meet him. He’s probably just giving us a target. Remember that Ranger in Fiore?”

Oh yeah. A few months before, we went of to the Fiore Region to stage a mass capture with a few other Hunters. I remember seeing the crates of Poké Balls as they were being prepped for transport. The only problem was that I saw this cute Lopunny there, and they didn’t speak English.

“Min.”

“Oh, right!” I exclaimed, jogging after him. Must’ve spaced out. “Uh... yeah, I remember Fiore. You think it’ll be something like that?”

René nodded, gingerly shifting his overcoat. Something seemed different with him. Not his personality, he was acting fine, just...

“Renny... do you have other Pokémon on you? Your aura’s a lot more... I dunno. Dangerous.”

“I don’t have other Pokémon, no. I don’t like cheating on you,” he replied with a deliberate smirk. The transparent joke didn’t help.

I didn’t speak for a little while, thinking to myself as we passed the bidding stands, closer to the office.

Soon, we were there, standing outside the worn steel door. It may have been a worker’s quarters once upon a time, where you put the basin controls or whatever. Now, it’s a fancy little office for Fawkes, or ‘The Auctioneer’, as a lot of people know him as. The turning in my stomach returned, tying more knots than a bunch of Boy Scouts on Adderall.

René pressed his thumb against the nearby sensor. The camera swerved to look at us — a camera I didn’t even notice until now — before the door unlocked with a sudden clank. Without a word, he opened the door, ushering me in and following closely behind.

I’d never really been in his office before, but it was similar to how I imagined it. It’s all very old-fashioned: mahogany furniture, simple patterned wallpaper; the kind of house your grandma would have. Even with all that, there was still modern amenities stuck here and there, like an expensive-looking TV, a fancy coffee maker, or the pistol resting on the desk. Fawkes himself had a yellow cloth, gingerly dusting the upright piano in the corner. “Evenin’, Minerva. Siddown, let’s talk,” he began, motioning to a small couch just out of sight. “R, outside.”

René didn’t move, looking at Fawkes dubiously. “Sir, as I’ve established before—“

“It’s that or I don’t talk to either’a ye’,” Fawkes interrupted calmly, lifting the top of the piano to check inside. “Two minutes. S’all I ask.”

It seemed like he took the two minutes standing in the doorway, watching Fawkes. Eventually, René nodded in submission, stepping through the door with a brief glance to me. “If you hear gunshots, they’re mine.” The distant voice said.

I stifled a confused look, only watching him flatly as he left. Gunshots. So... the aura was from a gun.

“He’s jus’ bein’ cautious, Minnie.”

I looked over to Fawkes, unsure of how to react. Wait, can he read minds? Does he have a Psychic-type? I couldn’t really hide my confused expression that time.

He just gave a hoarse chuckle, setting the piano top down. “I’ve spent my whole workin’ life checkin’ for firearms, Minnie. An overcoat ain’t stoppin’ that.” He made his way over to the coffee maker, idly fumbling with a capsule. “You mind if I call ye’ Minnie, or is it just R that can call you that?”

I shrugged hesitantly, shifting slightly on the couch. It was too firm. I didn’t have my notebook, so it wouldn’t be easy to communicate.

Fawkes shrugged with another chuckle, shaking his head. “I’ll jus’ call you Minnie. Now, eh... Minnie,” he began, taking a mug and placing it under the machine’s tap. “You n’ R, you’ve been with us for a long time now. I’d say... ten years or so? You’ve made a helluva name for yourselves, seein’ you on the news. You got all the qualities a criminal should have: efficient, ruthless, intuitive... only...”

The droning of the coffee machine didn’t manage to stifle the danger in the air. I found myself tensed, ready to retaliate.

He looked at me, giving a small sigh. “The best criminals‘re the ones ye’ve never heard of. See, all we do is keep the world in check, makin’ sure everyone treasures what they got. The moment you start makin’ a name for yerself, spreadin’ terror... what does that make ye’, Minnie?”

I didn’t respond.

“A terrorist,” he answered, lazily pointing a spoon at me before stirring his coffee. “See, we... we don’ like terrorists here. _I_ don’ like terrorists. But what the one good thing about ‘em is... shit, how do I word it...” He ambled towards the desk, gingerly picking up the pistol. “When they’re gone, people feel safe. When they’re safe, they feel vulnerable.”

I was standing up by then, staring at him. That’s hypocrisy. He wants people to feel protective but safe at the same... but then he wants to steal still, and... this makes no sense. He made no sense; I’d been taking orders from a schizophrenic.

Muffled gunshots sounded. I didn’t know who’s they were, but they were close. Like the idiot I was, I looked towards the door, looking for some sign of René being okay — and the gunshots were replaced with a screeching. This unbearably loud, unbearably high-pitched noise.

Fawkes said something. I couldn’t hear it, but his aiming, and the small device now on the desk, told me enough.

I couldn’t get up; I’d collapsed, curled up in a vain attempt to lessen the noise. My mouth opened in a silent scream, the sound faltering for a moment as darkness became to form in my chest. My hands numbly went down to culminate it. The light began to swell and lessen, the noise began to quieten.

Just so I could hear the gunshot.

I don’t know where I am.

I can’t feel my legs.

Everything’s dark.

Only... only... there’s something.

I can see something... a person. They’re... blond. Alex...? No...

I feel the rumbling of something underneath me, the cantering of hooves... the smell of the forest...

Wait...

“Hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

God _damn it._


End file.
